Away
by KhallieGurl
Summary: Ratatouille. M'kay, I know the title's lame, but I couldn't think of anything else. Just a story I cooked up inside my head one day. Ha. Cooked. Pun. Basically the gist of the story is that Remy's missing, but you'll have to read to find out more! :.
1. Chapter 1

Away 

This is just a random story I cooked up (heehee…...ratatouille pun) inside my head. The second chapter will be up soon, but I wanted to see how this one went first. REVIEW PLEASE!!

Disc: I do not own "Ratatouille" or any other characters I use here, except the ones in the background or something that didn't appear in the movie. (These are probably going to appear in later chapters.) "Ratatouille" is the property of Disney/Pixar.

I BEG OF WHOEVER'S READING THIS, REVIEW!!! EVEN IF IT'S BAD!!

"Hey, Dad, you seen Remy?" Emile poked his father, who was in a conversation with some of the other rat elders of the clan, on the arm.

"He's probably in the kitchen, Emile," Django answered his oldest son without even turning around. "So then I told him 'it isn't stealing if nobody _wants _it…."

Emile wondered why he hadn't thought of looking in the kitchen, and then went through the little rat café above the bistro La Ratatouille in search of his brother. He wanted to see if Remy wanted to sneak into a movie later—Paris had the best entertainment, as well as the best food (courtesy of his little bro), and he and Remy would occasionally slip through a crack in the wall in one of the theatres and sit quietly in the dark, watching whatever movie was playing.

Emile ran onto Remy's pulley-thing that lowered him into the kitchen during the lunch and dinner rushes. It was a lot more difficult to work than Remy made it look, especially for Emile because he could barely fit. The pulley ended up falling way too fast and Emile fell out, rather ungracefully, onto the counter.

A woman with short, dark hair who was chopping veggies at a counter opposite looked up expectantly and rather angrily.

"Mon Chef?" she asked. She saw it was only Emile, then lowered her gaze to the veggies again. "Sorry, I thought it was….nevermind."

"Does that mean Remy's not here?" Emile asked, forgetting that all the human could hear was a series of high-pitched squeaks.

Before Colette could attempt to discern the squeaks, a lanky boy with red hair burst through the doors that led to the dining area of La Ratatouille on skates. After the initial success of that night at Gusteau's, Linguini had been serving customers on roller skates to make the "dining experience" more interesting. That, and it was fun. Roller skating was one of the few things Linguini didn't feel clumsy doing.

"Hey, is Lil' Chef back yet?" he asked Colette as he picked up some menus from a table, hit his elbow, and dropped the menus on the floor.

"Non, Cheri," she said exasperatingly. "I don't know _where _he is. He is, however, supposed to _be…"_-she chopped a whole ball of cabbage in half here with a rather large knife- "…here during the lunch rush." She started furiously cutting half the cabbage into smaller pieces.

Linguini, who had recovered the menus from the floor and was now nursing his hurt elbow, said, "You know, it's not like Lil' Chef to not be here. I mean, it's not like he doesn't like his job—he loves it—well, obviously we know that or else he'd just be living like a normal rat right now—not to say he _isn't _a normal rat, it's just most rats don't like to cook, and he does, so I guess in theory that makes him a non-normal rat who would never—"

He stopped at the sight of Colette giving him the eye, which was when he knew he had screwed up another sentence, was getting off the point, and that Lil' Chef was in big trouble when he came back.

"Um…I've got to get these menus to Table 3….?" It came out sounding more like a question and he bolted as fast as he could from the kitchen on his roller skates.

Colette let out an exasperated sigh. Turning back to her vegetables, she skillfully pushed the smaller bits of cabbage she'd cut into a pot of boiling soup with her knife, then started glaring at Emile. She still had the large knife in her hand and looked quite angry, which did not make this a very pleasant conversation for Emile.

"You are Mon Chef's brother, non?"

Emile nodded, still eyeing the knife she was holding and tapping against the wooden cutting board in frustration.

"When you find him, tell him to come _straight _here, and that I would like to have a word with him," she said as she swept the rest of the cabbage into the pot of boiling soup without taking her eyes off Emile.

Emile just nodded and tried to operate the pulley to get back up to the rat café as soon as he possibly could.

Once back up, he breathed a sigh of relief. "I don't know how Remy handles it," he thought to himself as he went back to the table where his dad was still conversing with several other rats.

"Hey Dad", he poked his father's arm again. When his dad tried to pretend he hadn't heard him, he just poked harder.

"Hold on—" Django turned and looked at Emile. "What do you _want,_ Emile? If you're hungry, have Remy cook you something—"

"Remy's not in the kitchen."

Django raised his eyebrow. "Well that's strange. He never misses work if he can help it." He chuckled and turned back to the group and started a brand-new story. "Once Remy fell in the Seine River while he was out grocery shopping with whatshisname—Parcheesy?—and caught a cold. A pretty nasty one, at that. Parcheesy—"

"Linguini", Emile coughed.

"—Linguini wouldn't let him out of the apartment for days. It killed Remy. He kept trying to sneak out to get to the restaurant until Linguini finally had to tell him he couldn't cook for people if he was sick, anyway. Health Code or something. Not that we usually pay too much attention to that, of course." Here the entire group of rats burst out laughing. Probably because if you didn't laugh at something Django meant to be funny, it was a disaster. Remy and Emile learned that first-hand.

"Dad, that's exactly my point—if Remy's not in the kitchen, his favorite place in the world, then where is he?"

Django shrugged. "I wouldn't be too worried, Emile. Remy knows this city like the back of his hand."

"You don't think that the fact he knows the city like the back of his hand and isn't here during his favorite time of day means he's fine?"

Django's expression changed from one of slight annoyance to one with a small amount of worry on his face. He had to admit he couldn't argue with Emile's logic.

"Just give your brother some time, Emile. He'll turn up."

Emile wasn't totally convinced, but he knew it was too early to really get concerned.


	2. Chapter 2

Away 2 

Here we go. This chapter's a little boring, but bear with me, because it's kind of necessary.

Once again, I must beg, PLEASE REVIEW!!

This was not good. Not good at all.

Remy pushed against the glass of the jar he was in. How had he gotten himself _into _this mess?

Oh, right. Karma.

He'd been going to take a walk before La Ratatouille opened, just to clear his head. He hadn't slept very well last night—not because something was wrong, but just because it had been one of those nights. He'd been in a dreamlike state as he walked through an outside shopping center close to La Ratatouille, hoping the smells from some of the food vendor's carts would wake him up and get him ready for a day of doing what he loved best—cooking.

It didn't work that way.

"Maybe I should have listened to Linguini", he thought to himself, partly sarcastically. Linguini had been slightly overprotective of Remy lately—he was pretty sure it had something to do with the night he'd almost gotten run over by a Moped. He'd been across the street from the apartment, coming home after a family visit, and Linguini was already home, unlocking the door. Linguini had caught sight of Remy, smiled, and waved him over.

As soon as Remy started crossing the street, some guy on a Moped, presumably drunk, had been rocketing through the neighborhood and would have run Remy over if Remy hadn't noticed and screeched to a halt, falling backwards on the street ungracefully. Remy knew Linguini had thought the Moped had hit him from the way Linguini's face looked when the dust was gone and they could see each other again.

"I don't want you going _anywhere _alone for a while", he'd said sternly down to Remy after forcing him to let Linguini probe him for injuries. "It's dangerous for a lone rat out there. I'd never really thought about it before, but it's way harder for rats to stay safe out there than humans. I mean, my mom used to warn _me _before crossing the street every day, just think about how much more difficult it is for _you! _And walking downtown during the middle of the day? _I _had problems with that and…."

Remy had tuned out after it became clear that Linguini was going to start one of his rambling speeches that frequently had nothing to do with the original point. For the next week or so, Remy had barely ever been out of Linguini's sight until Colette noticed and made him lighten up.

During that week Remy hadn't gotten a lot of alone time for himself. He'd managed to slip away today for one of his long-missed morning walks, much to his delight. And look where it had ended up.

He was in a glass jar on the second-highest shelf of a back storage room in a bakery.

Once again, not good.

On his morning walk he'd never really done anything _that _risky—but today the bakery had been baking something new that it had never made before. He'd been enticed by the cinnamon smell and, still in his dream-like state, walked right into the store, which he hadn't thought was bad because he didn't see anyone working there at the moment. They were probably in the back, baking whatever was making that amazing smell. Remy had taken the opportunity to look around the store at some of the ingredients for new inspiration—and had turned around to find himself staring at a blonde woman wearing an apron who looked like she was about to vomit.

Somehow or other, the woman had gotten him into a jar and, because she was all out of mousetraps, had just stuck him in the back room until she could figure out what to do with him.

Thus was his predicament.

Remy continued tapping the jar in an effort to weaken the glass, even though he knew that wasn't really possible and it wasn't doing anything to help him.

At least the jar had air holes.


	3. Chapter 3

Away 3

Third chapter-WOOT WOOT!! R and R please!!

* * *

The lunch rush had just finished and Colette was using the extra time she had during the afternoon lull to wash some dishes. She was scrubbing a little harder than she really needed to as she contemplated the fact that their "head chef" hadn't shown up yet.

"It's not as if he's _sick,_ for Heaven's sake," she muttered under her breath as she attacked a bowl. "He was fine this morning." She thought of how excited he'd been as he sniffed some fresh new lemons they'd gotten from their (totally not bribed) grocer.

Linguini came rolling back into the kitchen with some menus, tossed them onto the table, missed, and fell into a chair, sighing.

"What's wrong, cheri?" Colette asked.

"The lunch rush is over. We have, like, four people in the restaurant right now."

"That always happens. Business will pick up again in a few hours."

"I don't mean that. I mean that Little Chef still isn't here, and the lunch rush is _over._" He leaned forward in his chair, resting his elbows on his knees. "That just isn't _like _him."

Colette finished drying a dish she was working on and assumed Linguini's position, with her face in her hands and her elbows propped up on the table.

"Cheri, I've been thinking", she started, but Linguini cut her off.

"You think something's happened, don't you?"

"Well…"

"You…you can say it. I was thinking the same thing, I just…I just don't….."

"I know."

"I just don't know what to _do,_ Colette! I don't know if I should start panicking, or just play it cool, or go out looking for him, which would be hard because you're the one who drives me here on your Moped, or go _buy _a Moped so that I _can _go looking for him, not that I even know _how _to drive a Moped, or maybe I could go take lessons, or—"

"CHERI," Colette cut him off. "I don't think you should go buy a Moped."

Linguini's expression told Colette that he'd just realized how stupid his last suggestion was.

They were silent for a few minutes and then Colette spoke again. "I don't know what to do either. We can't just leave the restaurant, even if it's not busy at the moment we don't know when an important customer might show up. But we can't just sit here, either."

A sudden clang from the other side of the kitchen drew their attention to the pulley their Little Chef used.

The brown rat who they had deductively assumed was Little Chef's brother had, once again, attempted to maneuver the pulley, and, once again, totally failed, sprawling out onto the countertop.

"You haven't seen your brother, have you?" Linguini asked as soon as the brown rat stood up from his fall.

The rat shook his head, a look of concern on his face. He did a couple hand gestures that seemed to say _you mean he's still not here?_

Linguini, who had become quite adept at charades, shook his head. "We don't know where he is. Would you mind….um….maybe………"

"Would you mind looking for him? Perhaps send out a search party or something?" Colette finished.

The brown rat nodded and scurried back up into the pulley.

"Well that's something," Colette said, a little cheerfully. "At least something's being done."

"You don't think he's….hurt, or anything, do you?" Linguni asked Colette.

Colette turned back to her dishes. "All I know, cheri, is that if he doesn't have a good excuse for missing the lunch rush, he's _going_to be."

* * *

Emile couldn't believe that Remy wasn't back yet. That wasn't like him at all. On the verge of panicking, he ran to the table his dad was still at.

"Dad, Remy's _still _not back yet," he told him as he tugged on his arm.

"What?" Django asked.

"He's_still _not back yet," Emile repeated.

"I know, I know, I heard you the first time," his dad replied, turning back to the table. "Hey, guys, I need to go have a little hart-to-hart with my son, don't do anything interesting while I'm gone, k?"

"Emile, do you know where Remy went to last?" his dad asked after he'd dragged Emile into a deserted corner.

Emile shook his head, unable to remember.

Django sighed. "Emile, I'm pretty worried. You had a point when you said the fact that Remy knows this town like the back of his hand and isn't here isn't a good sign. I don't want to rile the clan up for nothing, though, so let's keep this quiet. I'll send a few search parties, just to keep an eye out for him, and I want you to go looking for him. But go _with _someone. I don't want you going alone."

"All right, Dad," Emile said, scurrying off as fast as he could to find some close friends to take with him.

As he neared a table with some of his comrades, something happened. He suddenly remembered where Remy had gone.

He had seen Remy sneak out the back door while Linguini was helping get the last shipload of lemons from their grocer (who Emile was sure was bribed to give them first pick of the day.) Remy had sniffed some lemons excitedly, then turned, seen the back door open, and scurried out, out of sight of the grocer, Linguini, and Colette. Emile had been watching from a deck on the café and knew Linguini had been being a little overprotective of Remy lately—Remy had told him the Moped story—and Emile knew Remy was probably trying to find some alone time.

Usually, when Remy wanted alone time, he went on a walk to an open shopping center pretty close to La Ratatouille.

That_must _have been where he'd gone.

Struck by this intuitive thought, Emile ran as fast as he could out of the café, down the darned pulley, across the counter, and out a tiny hole in the wall specifically designed for the purpose of the rats getting out safely and quickly.

As soon as he was outside, he remembered that his dad hadn't wanted him going alone, but that didn't matter right now because every second he wasted finding a group was a second that could possibly be crucial to finding Remy. So he continued on his way to the shopping center.


	4. Chapter 4

Away 4 

Linguini watched the fat brown rat run down the pulley (almost operating it with success this time), on the counter, and out a tiny hole in the wall. He looked like he was actually going somewhere, which meant he had a purpose, which had to be good, right?

"Please, Little Chef, be OK," Linguini whispered to himself.

As soon as Emile turned the corner a block or two away from the shopping center, he had a feeling he was on the right track. There was just one problem:

Two humans were smack dab in the middle of his path.

Panicking, he dove behind a nearby trash can and listened to their conversation.

"Poor Marie, she must have been so scared this morning!" A brunette woman whispered to her counterpart, a tall man with dark hair and dark clothes who looked altogether rather creepy.

"I think she should have disposed of the despicable creature right away," he said.

"Well it's not like she had anything to do it _with,_ darling," the woman said. "I mean, Reggie's gone until six, and she's out of mousetraps for now."

Emile's ears perked up at the word 'mousetrap'. So that meant the 'despicable creature' they were talking about had to be a rodent of some kind.

The two humans started walking more towards the outside shopping center, and Emile, not wanting to miss out on the conversation, closely followed.

"What use is Reggie anyway if he's not there when Marie actually needs him?" the man asked gruffly.

"Well it's not like he can help it, he had a check-up," the woman answered. "Now I propose we go pay Marie a visit to cheer her up. She told me that today was the day her new cinnamon buns debuted."

Emile ended up following them all the way to the outside shopping center, listening to some stupid conversation about the pros and cons of a pair of gloves the woman liked best at some clothing apparel store. Which was weird, because it was spring.

Finally, they reached a bakery, who Emile assumed was 'Marie's'. He found the scent of cinnamon wafting through its doors overpowering and had to restrain very hard from simply running in.

_All right, Emile, what now? _He asked himself inside his head. _I'm not sure if Remy's really in there, but I know a rodent of some kind IS in there, and I know that Remy's missing, and this happens to be one of his favorite areas, so two and two go together, right? But what if I go in to see if it really is Remy and it's not, or I can't get back out? Oh, shoot, they're opening the door—what if they see me?—Dad's gonna kill me—_

All these thoughts were running through his head as he carefully, but quickly, ran through the door with the humans.

Remy hadn't been able to think of any escape ideas yet, which was not helping his current condition. He must've hit his head fifty times on the glass of the jar, hoping that jarring his brain might stimulate an idea of some kind. So far, it hadn't done anything but hurt.

He leaned back against the side of the jar in defeat. "What am I going to _do_?" he muttered to himself.

Maybe, if he pushed against the jar hard enough, it would fall off the shelf. Then it would shatter and he could run away.

No, there were three problems with that theory. One, the falling jar would probably break into a million pieces of sharp pointy glass that could possibly damage his internal organs or something. Two, the blonde woman in the front was sure to hear a jar shatter and would probably be in the back room in a heartbeat with the broom she'd used to corner him in the first place. And three, the door was closed and he couldn't see any other means of escape. He'd have to think of something—

"REMY!"

Remy started. He couldn't possibly hear who he thought he was hearing. Could he…?

"_REMY!"_

Remy looked down, and, sure enough, there was Emile.

"Emile, how'd you get _in _here?" Remy's voice was muffled by the glass.

"The back storage room door was open a crack—or at least enough for me to get through. But that's beside the point. Where have you _been _all day? _I _was worried, _Dad _was worried, not to mention _Linguini_—he's beside himself right now—what _happened?_"

"It's a long story. Look, I need you to—"

The sound of laughter came through the door.

"No, really, Marie, I'll go check on it, rats don't faze me at all," a man's voice said.

"It's true," said another woman.

"All right…I'd really appreciate it, actually, I'm not so good at dealing with rodents….hate the nasty little things, really…", that was the blonde woman's voice.

"Then I'll just go back and check things out for you," the man said.

"Thank you, but first, you've _got _to try my new cinnamon buns—"

Remy looked back at Emile with an expression of panic on his face. "Emile, we don't have much time. You've got to get out of here."

"Well not without you."

"YES, without me!"

"NO."

"And how do you propose to get me out of this jar in the maybe sixty seconds we have until that guy comes back here?"

Emile opened his mouth to say something, then closed it, realizing he didn't have a plan.

"Yeah. Now GO."

"Wait, Remy, I can't just _leave_, I mean, some guy named Reggie's coming later and apparently his specialty is getting rid of rodents—the only reason you're not 'disposed of' already is because he had a check-up, and—"

"Emile, you have maybe thirty seconds to get out of here or you're going to be in the same boat as me."

"But I've got to—"

"You're not going to be able to help me if you're in a jar, too!"

Emile realized the wisdom of this statement and got ready to run.

"Don't worry, Remy, I'll be back as soon as I can, I'm not gonna let that Reggie guy or whoever do anything to hurt _my _little brother!" he shouted as he started scurrying his way back to the door.

Just as he was about to reach it, it swung open.


	5. Chapter 5

Away 5

This is kind of a short chapter—more coming soon!!

(BTW, sorry about that cliffhanger in Chapter 4.)

AWAY CH. 5

"I ordered my foie gras an _hour _ago," the heavyset man at table seven complained rather loudly. He banged his hand on the table, sending the salt and pepper shakers flying.

"Sir, I'm sorry, we're…a little shorthanded tonight," Linguini apologized. "And I'm afraid you ordered your foie gras twenty minutes ago, which is the standard time to wait, so I can't really offer…compensation or anything…….."

"Where do you get off speaking to your elders like that, boy?" he asked, fairly yelling now.

"Sir, if you continue acting in that manner, I'm afraid I might have to ask you to leave the premises," Linguini said, although not very threateningly. There really wasn't anything threatening about Linguini.

Naturally, the man saw this. "Get your head chef, _boy_, and we'll see what _he _says about acting up to one of your elders," he snarled.

This was too much for Linguini. Anyone else would have snapped because of the man's obviously horrible manners, but the last straw for Linguini had been the sheer mention of the restaurant's head chef.

Little Chef still wasn't back.

Linguini just stood there for he didn't know how long, not knowing if he'd suddenly have a nervous breakdown or if he'd involuntarily bolt from the restaurant.

"Excuse me, Missure," Colette said, having mysteriously appeared beside Linguini in the last few seconds, "but I'm afraid La Ratatouille will not tolerate such behavior and we would like to request for you to dine somewhere else."

The man huffed and prepared for a comeback, but Colette, unlike Linguini, _was _threatening and the glare she was giving him probably said so. He got up, and, after giving one last glare that fell short of Colette's, left the bistro.

Colette dragged Linguini back into the kitchen rather forcefully and slammed him against the wall.

"What do you think you are doing?' she demanded. "You have to _concentrate_!" She punched him on the arm, light enough so it wouldn't really hurt and hard enough so that it would jostle him out of the mindless state he was in.

Linguini started, realizing that Colette was yelling at him. "Colette…."

"Non! It's the dinner rush and you cannot freeze while checking on the customers! Do you know how many people are in there right now? We cannot afford to give bad service! What do I always tell you about this business?"

"Um….you never know when someone important might…show up?"

"OUI! And one mistake could mean a bad review! And one bad review could mean that everyone who read that review—which can be how many people?"

"A….a lot…."

"_Hundreds! _Hundreds of people could decide because of that one review _not _to come to La Ratatouille for dinner that night! Is that good for business?"

"Well…no…..:

"Good job! Now go back out there and be _alert!_"

With that, she pushed Linguini back towards the doors that led to the bistro.

Right before reaching the doors, Linguini stopped.

"Colette….I….I'm sorry…it's just……Little Chef….."

Colette's face softened. "I know, cheri. But wherever he is, you don't think he'd want us to give the bistro bad business, do you?

Linguini looked up. That thought hadn't occurred to him. Of course Little Chef wouldn't want Linguini messing up the restaurant's almost flawless service reputation, whether he was there or not. This thought fueled the little energy and attention he had left to devote to work.

"Non, cheri," he said, and went out the doors to do the best he could for the missing Little Chef.

Colette sighed, knowing she'd said something right.

"Mon Chef, get back here soon," she said quietly to herself.

Then she ran to the oven to stop a soufflé from burning.


	6. Chapter 6

Heehee, sorry about that cliffhanger in Ch. 4! I would have had this chapter up sooner, but I had to work on it forever to make it seem somewhat exciting. Plus I went up to Wisconsin to see grandparents and cousins for New Year's and there's no computer in our cabin. Anyways, enjoy!!

AWAY CHAPTER 6

For a second, Emile thought he was done for. He closed his eyes and waited for the impact of a broom or a terrified shriek. But it didn't come.

"No, no, I _told _you it didn't look like a mushroom," the tall, creepy man was saying. "It looks more like….like….well, uh…."

Emile forced himself to open one of his eyes and look at the doorway.

The man was standing there, holding the door open, but looking back over his shoulder to the right and talking to the other two women, who Emile couldn't see. Emile silently thanked the Gods of Ignorant People for making this happen.

A millisecond later, he heard Remy.

"_Emile!_," he was saying through gritted teeth as quietly as possible. "Under the shelf!!"

Emile shook his head to get his body moving again and dove under the nearest shelf, right before the man turned his head.

Closing the door, the man walked into the room without even turning on a light so the room was pitch black. He walked up to the jar Remy was in. Shining a tiny flashlight right into the jar, he spoke.

"There you are, you nasty little thing," he said. "Looks like you won't be going anywhere. Reggie's going to be pretty happy when he comes home." Turning off the flashlight, he went back to the door, opened it, and started walking out.

Seeing his chance, Emile dove for the door. Unfortunately, he ran right in front of the man's line of vision.

"ANOTHER ONE?!" he shouted.

Marie and the other lady turned their heads to see a fat brown rat running as absolutely fast as he could to the door of the bakery.

The brunette woman screamed and Marie reached for a broom underneath her desk. Taking it, she ran to the rat and whacked it as hard as she could.

Emile felt a spasm of pain go through the left side of his body, and then his right side as he hit the wall. Wincing, he got up and prepared to run again.

To his delight, he saw the door to the bakery open and an old woman and a little boy come through. The old woman screamed when she saw the rat running on the floor, and the little boy laughed with delight.

Emile seized the opportunity and bolted through the open door onto the street before he could get whacked by the broom again.

"IT'S GETTING AWAY!" he heard the man shout as he raced out onto the street.

He didn't stop running until he near passed out on the street behind a garbage can a few blocks away from the bakery.


	7. Chapter 7

Whoop whoop, Chapter 7!! This is a short chapter, but it's kind of where some exciting stuff gets started. Enjoy!! R and R, please!!

Away 7

"That's _it,_ Colette," Linguini said with more force than he usually put into any of his sentences. "The dinner rush is almost over! Little Chef's been missing for, like, 10 hours and I just can't sit here any longer!"

"Cheri, we can't just leave with customers—"

"We can't just leave Little Chef in whatever trouble he's in!"

Colette was silent after that for a moment. Linguini took a deep breath.

"Colette, I know something's happened. Don't ask how, I just _know. _The dinner and lunch rushes are Little Chef's favorite times of day—he wouldn't miss them of his own free will. You know how dedicated he is to this place."

Colette nodded and Linguini continued.

"And…and I can't just stay here and not do anything while I know Little Chef's in trouble. I don't know how, because I don't really know how to drive your Moped, but I'm going to find him and you can't stop me from going because of some picky customers. I mean, the dinner rush is almost over anyway, and I'm going."

Linguini headed towards the door, unbuttoning his black waiter's vest.

"Cheri, go ahead. I understand," Colette said softly as he got ready to open the door. "Just…be careful."

But before Linguini's hand reached the door, he heard a familiar scratching sound on the counter.

"Little Chef?" he asked, hope in every syllable. Turning around, he noticed Little Chef's brother, not Little Chef, had just gotten through the little rat hole in the wall.

Sighing, Linguini asked, "You haven't found him, have—"

But he was cut off by the frantic, deranged little squeaking sounds the rat was making, arms flailing all over the place.

"Wait, wait, hold up," Linguini said, intrigued and excited now. "You _did _find him, didn't you?"

The rat nodded. It looked like his neck was going to snap.

"Where?" Colette, who had appeared next to Linguini, also excited and intrigued, asked.

The rat started pointing out the door and making more movements that Linguini nor Colette could understand.

"Can you take me to him?" Linguini asked, stretching out his arm for him to climb on.

The rat ran up Linguini's arm and started furiously tugging on his sleeve, as if that would make him go faster.

"Colette, I'll be back as fast as I can," he shouted as he opened the door and ran the direction the rat was pointing, forgetting to take off his skates.


	8. Chapter 8

Once again, a short chapter, sorry!! Chapter 9's probably going to be a longer one, so those of you who like long chapters, just sit tight. R and R!!

Away 8

* * *

"IT'S GETTING AWAY!"

Remy heard the shout and let go of the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

_Thank God Emile got away, _he thought to himself. _I panicked when I heard the impact of that darned broom…_

Sighing with relief, he sat back down against the edge of the jar and continued contemplating his current situation.

"Let's see", he muttered. "I'm in a jar on a high shelf in the back of a bakery. There are two women and a creepy guy out there, and they happen to have a broom. Some guy named Reggie's coming later to 'exterminate' me or something like that, and the door's clo-"

Remy glanced over at the door as he spoke.

Except it wasn't closed.

It was about halfway open.

The creepy guy must've not bothered to close it after he saw Emile, and the light wasn't on in here so no one in the bakery had noticed it.

"The door's not closed," he whispered to himself, as if saying it would make it really true. "The door's not closed!" he repeated.

For a moment, he was ecstatic. It was his lucky break! An escape route!

But, then he remembered he was in a jar on the second highest shelf and that there was no way to get out of the stupid glass prison.

"DARN it," he practically yelled. He kicked the side of the jar in frustration.

Before he knew it, the jar had gotten off-balance and began to fall.


	9. Chapter 9

Sorry about this not being a long chapter like I promised…the next one is DEFINITELY going to be a longer one!! Enjoy! R and R please!!

(And thanks to all the readers who have already R and R'ed!! I sure appreciate it!!)

AWAY 9

* * *

The jar shattered with more force than Remy had expected.

He felt himself being pulled along with the jar as it fell, felt his body spinning inside it as it neared the floor. Then he heard the crash of glass breaking and felt a burst of pain course through his entire body as the jar shattered against the hard floor and he hit the ground with a jolt.

For a few seconds, he just lay where he was, dimly aware that he had done a few somersaults upon impact. Trying to shut out the pain he felt in his entire being, he warily opened his eyes.

He was lying on his stomach, facing the shelf opposite the one he'd been on. Pushing himself up with his wobbling little arms, Remy turned around.

Glass was everywhere. Big pieces, little pieces, sharp pieces, cracked pieces—it was all over the place. It was a wonder none had lodged themselves in Remy's spleen.

Shakily, Remy tried to stand. As he was attempting to make his legs stop wobbling, he heard a sound outside that made his blood run cold.

"What…what was that?" he heard the owner of the bakery say, her voice quivering with uncertainty.

"I…I don't know…" a man's voice said. Then he laughed. "But Reggie's going to investigate."

_Reggie?!!?_ Remy thought frantically. _From what Emile said, I've got to get out of here!_

He forced himself to turn back towards the door.

A cat, waiting steadily in a pouncing position, stared back at him.


	10. Chapter 10

Sorry it took so long to upload this chapter!! As you can see, it is a longer one. It's also one that required me to look into extreme detail to make sure that this chapter flows logically. (If any readers see some sort of break in logic, tell me in a review. You know, constructive criticism.)

For future reference before you start reading, though, the first portion is told through the POV's of Emile and Linguini, the second is Remy's POV (starting from right after he saw the cat in Chapter 9), and the third is Linguini's. The views are all happening at roughly the same time, and are of the same thing.

All right, enjoy!! Review please!!

AWAY 10

* * *

Little Chef's brother was tugging on his sleeve so hard Linguini had a feeling the sleeve might fall off. But if it meant finding Little Chef quicker, the rat could tear his shirt to pieces for all he cared.

At a sudden squeak from the rat on his arm, Linguini skidded to a stop in the middle of an outside shopping center. He recognized it as the place he and Colette bought groceries for La Ratatouille—Little Chef joined them sometimes if he had a certain ingredient on his mind.

"Is this where he is?" Linguini asked Little Chef's brother, who looked like he was about to have a spasm.

The rat eagerly nodded and pointed to a bakery called "Marie's".

"Well then, let's go," Linguini said determinedly.

Linguini burst through the doors of the bakery, arms stretched wide and legs straddled on his roller skates.

A blonde woman and a brunette man with glasses turned away from a half-open door in the back of a bakery to give him inquisitive stares.

"Uh…sorry…" he mumbled as he let the doors swing closed behind him and assumed his normal poise. He glided up to the counter, opened his mouth, and then realized he didn't know what to say.

He couldn't very well just say "The brother of my Little Chef says he came in here earlier and he never came back so I was wondering if you knew where he is." He couldn't say "My best friend, a rat, is missing and most likely in this bakery" either. Nor could he say "I think there's a rat in your bakery and I want it." That would probably be the worst.

So he said the first thing that came to mind.

"You haven't possibly seen a rat anywhere around here today, have you?"

The blonde woman's expression revealed how stupid a question Linguini had just asked. She was about to answer when a sound came from the back door of the bakery.

"rrrrrrreeeeeeeeOOOOOOOOOW!!"

Emile, in Linguini's pocket, froze at the sound. There couldn't be one in this bakery.

Or no—how could he have been so stupid? Being a rat, he'd had plenty of experience with this kind of thing before. "Away at a checkup?" "What good is Reggie if he's not there to do what he's supposed to?" "Reggie's going to be pretty happy when he comes home?"

Reggie was a _cat._

And the cat was in the back room with his Lil' Bro.

Emile thrust his head out of Linguini's pocket and prepared to jump out, not caring whether the humans saw him or not.

But before he could, a bluish-gray shape came running out of the storage room, closely followed by an orange one.

* * *

Remy instinctively ducked as the cat pounced. Luckily, it overshot him and ran headfirst into the wall behind him. The door that led to the bakery was, thankfully, now open.

At this sight of escape Remy felt his blood circulate again and a sudden burst of adrenaline shot him toward the door with a speed he hadn't known he could achieve.

He could tell the cat was up again and getting ready to re-pounce.

But he was in the bakery now. He could see the actual exit, hear whoever else was in the bakery scream. He also thought he glimpsed a familiar human from the corner of his left eye, and heard a familiar voice scream "NO!", but he wasn't sure and didn't want to stop running because of—

Too late. He felt what he was trying to avoid, the burning sensation of claws, strike his back and he felt himself spinning. He was thrown into the wall ahead of him, just to the right of the door. Slamming into the wall backwards, Remy's vision went black.

He heard more screams. Several of them included some form of the statement "Reggie, get it!" in what seemed to be hysterics.

About a second later, Remy blinked a few times and managed to open his eyes. He found himself lying upside-down against the wall next to the door. The cat, strangely, wasn't in his field of vision and he found himself staring at a woman holding a broom.

Oh, no, not the broom again…

Remy kicked off the wall and landed on his stomach as the broom collided with the spot he'd just been in. Getting up, he ran directly to the left, towards the door, and saw something that made him happier than he'd been all day.

How it had gotten there, he didn't know, but that didn't matter. A rat hole was in the wall opposite where he was now, right between a pair of lanky legs in black pants and roller skates.

Wait, roller skates…? That could only mean—

THWACK!

He'd stayed still too long. The broom made impact and Remy went flying across the room, colliding with a wall for the second time in the last 30 seconds.

This time, he moved quicker. He got up as fast as he could, and, since he'd been propelled into the very wall with his escape route, managed to squeeze through the hole before anything else could happen.

* * *

Horror, anger, and disbelief flashed across Linguini's face as he watched the scene before him.

He watched Little Chef come sprinting out of the room in the back, pursued by an orange cat, and he watched the owner of the bakery run at the little rat with a broom. He didn't consciously remember moving forward, screaming "NO!", and hitting the broom with his hand so it hit the cat and not Little Chef, but apparently he had because the next thing he knew he was trying to wrestle the broom from the blonde woman and the cat was lying against a wall.

The blonde woman managed to yank the broom from Linguini's grasp, Linguini not being the type who won at physical challenges. She pushed Linguini to the side so he slid on his skates and collided with the register.

Looking up, Linguini saw Little Chef, who had apparently been hit by the stupid cat and was lying slumped against the wall. Thankfully, he saw the rat's eyes open and Little Chef managed to get out of the way before the broom made contact.

Linguini skated closer to Little Chef, right in front of the opposite wall, trying to put his hand down and somehow have the little rat scamper up his arm, but he was distracted by the blonde woman raising her broom once again.

Upon seeing Linguini's skates, Little Chef had, strangely, just stood there and given the blonde the perfect opportunity to thwack him with the broom again. He flew through the air (right between Linguini's legs, actually), and slammed against that wall.

For a second, Linguini thought Little Chef might not make it. The logical part of his brain was telling him that the little rat had been clawed by a cat, whacked by a broom, and hit two walls in 30 seconds and that was probably not good for his physical well-being. But Little Chef got right up again.

Linguini almost cried with relief when Little Chef disappeared through a rat hole he hadn't noticed before. The only reason he didn't was because this meant Little Chef would be missing again.


	11. Chapter 11

Sorry it took me so long to update!!! I had some other stuff I had to do, and this chapter (especially Linguini's speech near the end, review me especially on that, please), took me an especially long time to do. I have no idea when Chapter 12 will be up, but I've at least _started_ that, so for you impatient people out there rest easy because it will probably be up quicker than this one got uploaded.

Enjoy, and Chapter 12 will be posted sooner if I get MORE REVIEWS!! (hint hint)

Away 11

* * *

Linguini stood there after watching Little Chef scurry through the rat hole, his brain trying to comprehend what had happened in the last 60 seconds.

As far as he could tell, Little Chef had come running out of a room in the back, gotten swiped by a cat, knocked into a wall, whacked by a broom, and then had somehow managed to get out of the bakery through a hole in the wall before he got hit one too many times. But why had Little Chef been in the back room in the first place…?

Linguini looked up at the blonde woman, who had abandoned her lethal broom in a corner to check her cat. A new wave of realization hit him. Hard.

He cleared his throat with more force than he usually did. Hearing the sound, the woman turned.

"Why was that rat in your back room?" Linguini asked, eyes boring into the blonde woman's with a determination and anger that he hardly ever felt.

"Well what was I _supposed_ to do with it?" she asked, leaving her vicious cat in the care of the man with glasses in order to advance upon Linguini, now almost to the point of shouting. The stress of the day was clearly making its mark. "It came in here this morning, looking like it wanted to _ravage_ the place, and of course the_one_ time a demented rat comes into the bakery my cat isn't here to dispose of it"—she motioned towards her cat, which was quite content in the corner getting it's ears scratched—"and I, honestly, still can't believe that I got the disgusting little creature into a jar without it _biting_ me and giving me all the_diseases_ it probably has—"

"Now that's _enough_," Linguini said, talking down to the blonde like she was a child. To his credit, he hadn't once moved as she advanced on him, something that didn't happen every day. "Now I know for a fact that that rat didn't come in here trying to 'ravage' the place or whatever it is you thought he was trying to do. And I know for a fact that he didn't do anything wrong. Are you telling me that you kept him in a _jar _for this entire day in some storage closet?"

The tone of Linguini's voice seemed to make the blonde think better of whatever she had been about to say. Instead, with her eyes narrowed, she said, "What's it to you?"

"I'LL_TELL_ YOU!!" Linguini practically screamed, making Emile jump a little inside his pocket. The emotions he'd been feeling the entire day exploded into his speech, and he didn't care whether what he was saying made sense to the blonde woman or not. "First, Little Chef's late for the lunch rush, which NEVER happens, so of COURSE me and Colette were concerned, but we weren't really WORRIED, or at least not until his little family pantomimed to us that they didn't know where he was, THEN we were worried and I kept getting orders mixed up and Colette kept getting mad at me because 'you never know when someone important's gonna show up', but it doesn't really MATTER if someone important shows up because, HEHE, WE don't have a CHEF! And THEN when I finally realized that Little Chef might be hurt or WORSE, although I'm not entirely sure what could be worse than being hurt unless you were dead and I don't like to think about that, Colette wouldn't let me go look for him because of the stupid customers and then she wouldn't let me go buy a Moped so I COULD look for him, so then I was kind of stuck, but finally SHE gets so worried that she LETS me go look for him and I'm just about to leave when Little Chef's BROTHER shows up squeaking and dancing some weird little dance that I can only take to mean that Little Chef's in trouble or hurt or something so I don't even take off my SKATES to go look for him, and I come here and there's a CRASH and a RRRREEEEEEEEOOOW and a FWOOSH and a THUD and a THWACK and now he's gone AGAIN and I find out that YOU had him in a JAR for this entire day?!!!?!!!!!"

By this time Linguini was starting to make unintelligible noises to replace his words. The blonde woman had started backing away at "Little Chef's late for the lunch rush", so Emile figured it was time for Linguini to stop attempting speech. Positioning himself so he could bite Linguini hard enough to stop him from talking but gently enough so it wouldn't tear through the pants, he opened his mouth and—

BRIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIING!!!!!!!!!!!!

The alarm system from the shop next door had gone off.


	12. Chapter 12

Sorry it took me so long to get this chapter up!! I couldn't get on a computer for, like, EVER, since I was in DISNEY WORLD (haha, yes, be jealous), and then I had some other stuff I had to write for my TV class, so I swear this is like the first time I've actually had time to write a good chapter. Enjoy!!

REVIEW PLEASE!!

Away 12

* * *

Remy poked his head out the other side of the hole.

At first, he just saw darkness, but as his vision adjusted he could make out large bookshelves and comfy-looking armchairs, one of which he was under.

"Huh. So that means I'm in the bookstore next to the bakery," he thought aloud to himself. He was pleasantly surprised, although he didn't know where he'd expected the tunnel to lead. He was even more pleasantly surprised when he realized that the store was closed and he didn't need to worry about more people going berserk because of a rat on the premises.

His cheerful disposition vanished, however, after he realized that if the store was closed it meant the door would be locked.

Remy raced to the door just in case.

No luck. Even in the dark, he could see the lock that most shopkeepers in this area liked to use on the door.

Well, he'd have to find another way out. Going out the front door wasn't going to work. Or would it?

Remy ran to a stool that was propped against a bookshelf near the door. Someone must have used it earlier to get to a book on one of the top shelves and was too lazy to put it away. Climbing to the top via one of the legs, Remy could get a good vantage point of the lock.

After studying it for a few moments, he decided what he needed to do. Jumping off the stool (he realized that was a bad idea as soon as he hit the ground, his recent bodily injuries were just starting to hurt and the fall didn't help), he started pushing the stool towards the door. Luckily, it was a cheap, lightweight stool that was easily pushed and it only took Remy, he being the tiny rat he was, about five minutes to get the stool to the door with a break after the first two and a half.

As he pushed, Remy thought about what he'd seen in the bakery. Those skates were undoubtedly Linguini's—they had been laced in a weird way that could only mean Linguini had attempted to tie them himself. Did that mean Emile had succeeded in getting help? Remy had never necessarily doubted the fact that Emile would be able to get help, but the fact that something had gone right today was almost too good for Remy to believe. But those skates _had _to be Linguini's. The laces proved it.

_What has everyone back home been thinking all day? _Remy wondered as he ascended the stool, now propped against the door. _Hope I haven't worried them or anything…of course, considering the fact that I missed the lunch and dinner rushes and haven't been seen since this morning, I'm pretty sure that's out of the question. Oh, boy, Colette's probably really angry with me right now…heck, __**all**__ of them probably are…besides, Emile said everyone was wondering where I'd gone, it's only natural that they'd worry…aw, man, I hope they haven't, like, sent out search parties or anything…guilt…_

"Now, Remy, you know that none of this is your fault."

Remy blinked. He hadn't seen Gusteau in about a week, ever since the Moped incident, when he'd been mad at himself for practically giving Linguini a heart attack. Gusteau always seemed to appear when Remy was sad or angry with himself.

"But, Gusteau, _I _walked into the bakery, _I _wasn't paying attention, _I _wasn't quick enough to avoid getting trapped in a _jar. _What does that say to you?"

"It says 'I make mistakes, to err is human.'," Gusteau replied, hovering near the lock Remy was trying to force his tail into. "Or, _ahem, _rat."

Remy rolled his eyes as he attempted to pick the lock. "Yeah, but that mistake might have caused my entire family to go berserk. They're probably so angry with me right now…"

"Why would they be angry with you?"

"Well, think about it, I'm late for the times when I'm needed the most in the restaurant, I'm pretty sure my dad wanted me to meet this old friend of his from another clan near here, Emile and I were planning on seeing a movie—"

"I still don't understand why they would be mad at you."

"I basically single-handedly ruined the day for anyone who had plans."

"Remy, what if Emile went missing?"

Remy stopped picking the lock for a second. "Huh?"

"Let's say you and Emile had plans one day and he just suddenly went missing. You find him in a jar in the back storage room of a bakery only to find out that he might be 'disposed of' later by some sort of exterminator. Then later, you find out he fell off the shelf, narrowly escaped serious injury by a cat, and got trapped in a bookstore. What is your reaction?"

"I don't know. I guess…worry, concern, relief that he didn't get maimed."

"And are you angry with him at all?"

"No. It's not his fault. I'm just glad he's not hurt."

Gusteau smiled a knowing smile. "Exactly," he said as he disappeared.

Remy opened his mouth to retort and realized that Gusteau had totally just won the argument. Shaking his head, he smiled. _For a figment of my imagination, _he thought, _Gusteau comes in pretty handy. _

The lock finally clicked.

"YES!" Remy said to himself. Turning around, he pushed the door open with all his might and—

A very loud, annoying ringing sounded in his ears.


	13. Chapter 13

Yay! Here's Chapter 13!! Sorry it took me so long to write this, but as you can see, it's a rather long chapter. With a cliffhanger. Sorry!!

Away 13

* * *

Remy fairly vibrated from the insane amount of sound the alarm made.

"This day just keeps getting better," he said to himself, not that he could hear his own thoughts over the piercing ring of the alarm.

Deciding that it was definitely time to get out of there, Remy tried pushing on the door from his perch on top of the stool. He really couldn't take much more of this labor, his back was killing him and he was pretty sure he might just keel over and fall asleep pretty soon.

He had just realized, much to his frustration, that you had to _pull_ the door open when he heard a voice from outside.

"We've got you surrounded! Come out with your hands up!"

Oh, Lord. Had the _Police Nationale _seriously responded to the alarm signal? Well, actually, Remy didn't see why they wouldn't, but it was just too hard to believe.

" I said _come out with your hands up_!"

Remy jumped off the stool and onto a nearby table by the front window. Peering through the window at the scene, he saw about three police cars, lights flashing and sirens wailing. It took all Remy had to stop himself from exploding into laughter at the sight of about a dozen armed officers aiming at the store with a crowd of late-night shoppers standing quizzically behind them.

Remy stood on tiptoes to get a better view of the policeman closest to him, who was younger than the others and looked quite shaky and nervous. The arm holding the gun trembled visibly. Not a good sign. He scanned the crowd, looking for Linguini, as he thought of possible ways to escape. If he could spot Linguini in the crowd outside, he might have something to work off of…_wait…was that him…?_ Remy leaned forward to get a better look.

He'd barely been able to discern that the lanky redhead behind an obese woman in a flower hat was, in fact, Linguini, before he heard a stifled shout.

He whipped his head in the direction of the sound to see the young, shaky policeman aim his gun at the window and pull the trigger.

After that, it was all in slow motion. For about a millisecond Remy stood frozen, not sure what to do, but then instinct took over and he dove onto the table, lying flat and covering his head as he heard the glass shatter above him.

He waited a few seconds. The only sounds he heard were the rain (the fact that it was raining was news to him), wailing of the police sirens, more clear now that the window was shattered, and the gasps of the crowd of passersby. Remy stood up, shaking more than he had when he'd fallen off the shelf less than 15 minutes ago. Judging by the feathers strewn everywhere, the bullet had apparently hit one of the armchairs, missing Remy only because he had ducked.

"Jacques, what was _that?_"

"I-I'm s-sorry, sir, I-I thought I saw something moving."

"That does_not_ give you the right to shoot!"

"I'm sorry, sir, I-I panicked."

"_Panicking_is not something we do on the job!"

As they argued, Remy seized the opportunity. He knew what he had to do, and this might be the only good chance he had of getting away. Grabbing a random book that had been left on the table, he held it open above his head, in much the same way he had once held _Anyone Can Cook _while running through the French countrysideRemy went to the window, took a deep breath, and jumped out of it.

* * *

"Excuse me, Madame, but if you could just…."

Linguini's pleas were lost in the sound of the rain and the fat lady's grunts as she obstructed his view more. Linguini tried again.

"Madame, excuse me, but I'm behind you and I'd really like to see what's going on…"

No luck.

Linguini sighed, thinking that maybe _he_ should move. Putting his hand in his pocket to let Little Chef's brother know he was moving, Linguini started attempting to weave his way through the crowd on roller skates.

Then he heard the gun shot.

This time he literally pushed the fat woman aside so he could have a clear view of what was going on.

He saw the window to the bookstore, shattered, and one of the policemen standing with his gun, looking embarrassed and anxious.

That was the bookstore he was pretty sure Little Chef was in.

"Jacques, what was _that?_"

"I'm s-sorry, sir, I-I thought I saw something moving."

Two of the policemen, the captain and the nervous one (Jacques?), started arguing. At the moment, Linguini wasn't paying much attention to anything but the shattered window, where he was trying to figure out if what he was seeing in it was a moving book

_Oh, no. He wouldn't…_

He would. Little Chef, underneath a book, jumped out the window and began running as fast as he could towards the crowd.

"What the….?" The captain craned his neck to look around Jacques, who whipped around to see what was happening for himself. Panicked, Jacques fiddled with his gun and started shooting at the moving book that was Little Chef.

Little Chef veered to a stop as soon as he heard gunshots and turned away from the crowd, heading in the opposite direction, _towards_ the policeman that was shooting at him.

"WHAT?! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!!" Linguini found himself inadvertently shouting, although everyone else was so it didn't really make a difference, except that Linguini was yelling at Little Chef to run_away _from the man trying to shoot him and everyone else was just screaming for the sake of screaming.

Jacques was obviously surprised at the book's change of motion, and didn't shoot for a few seconds as the book went right under him.

* * *

_This could not get any worse, _Remy thought to himself as he dashed madly through the street with a book above his head.

First of all, there were people shooting at him. The bullets were the entire reason he had grabbed the book to hold above his head, but it was still unnerving. His original plan had been to dash towards Linguini and somehow make it into his pocket without being seen, but as soon as the shooting started he realized he couldn't lead the bullets towards the group of people.

Second, it was raining. This made the streets wet. The wet streets made Remy continually slip and thus made his attempted getaway much more difficult.

And third, there was nowhere to go except under the guy shooting at him.

Remy held his breath and dashed madly between the legs of the policeman, surprised that for a moment the shooting stopped. He opened his eyes, which he hadn't realized were closed, and noticed a vegetable cart a few yards away. That could provide some shelter until the policemen left!

Remy put on a burst of energy that he didn't know he still had and fairly zoomed to the cart.

He heard more gunshots behind him.

He ran faster.

The gunshots didn't stop, but seemed to come more often, so Remy ran faster. He hadn't known he could attain this speed.

And then he was at the vegetable cart. He used his last remaining strength to throw the book off of him, and then he slid.

* * *

Linguini couldn't say anything after that initial outburst. All he could do was watch Little Chef run away under that book, and watch helplessly as stupid policemen fired at him.

And then it happened.

The book flew off Little Chef, Little Chef slid under the vegetable cart, and the policeman fired one more time.

A spattering of red exploded from under the cart.


	14. Chapter 14

Short chapter, I know. But the story's NOT OVER YET!! Another cliffhanger type-thing, I know, but Chapter 15 will be up soon!!

Away 14

* * *

For a second, all was silent. The echo of the gunshot was the only thing that could be heard.

Then the police captain turned furiously on Jacques.

"Tell me, Jacques, do you know what you were firing at?"

"Well, s-sir, uh, it looked like…it looked like a rat."

"And_why _were you firing at a rat?"

"I-I was startled, sir…"

"As far as I know, _Jacques, _that rat chewed some kind of tunnel into the store and set off the alarm system when it was walking around. You do _not _shoot at things that are simply moving, and you do _not _waste bullets on a _rat_."

"M-my apologies, sir."

"You're going to need more than an apology to make up for this one."

With that, the captain turned to the crowd.

"Everyone, it seems that the alarm system was nothing more than a fluke. A rat got in and accidentally set it off, and there's nothing more in that store. Everyone can go home."

The crowd started mumbling, some of the younger people saying what a disappointment it was and the older people complaining about how much more efficient the _Police Nationale _were in their day.

Only Linguini stood there, not moving. Not _able_ to move, trying to register what had just happened.

Was Little Chef gone…?

No, Little Chef couldn't be gone. It was impossible. He just couldn't.

But as he stared at the cart, he realized that it was. The red on the sidewalk that almost made him gag confirmed it.

Linguini forced himself to move closer, hoping against hope that Little Chef might just come running out from under the bottom of the cart, completely unharmed.

But he knew this wouldn't happen.

Little Chef's brother knew, too. Linguini could tell from the way he was sagging in the pocket, his little head poking through the top, searching for the same thing as Linguini.

Linguini was about to turn away, defeated, when the wind ruffled the pages of Little Chef's book.

He picked it up and turned to the cover.

_Parti avec le Vent. _

_Gone with the Wind._


	15. Chapter 15

This is kind of a boring chapter, but it explains what everyone's been (hopefully) dying to know since the last chapter. Sorry it took so long to upload, I honestly though I'd be able to get this up faster…haha. Next chapter up soon, hopefully!! Please review!!

Away 15

* * *

Tomatoes were officially Remy's favorite vegetable. Or fruit. Or whatever they were. It didn't matter. They were his favorite.

It was extremely lucky for Remy, he realized, that there had been a stray tomato down here in the first place. If the last shot fired by the nervous policeman hadn't hit it and caused an explosion of red on the sidewalk, he might've continued shooting until he was convinced he had hit Remy. Apparently, though, remnants of an exploded tomato were very convincing as…well, Remy didn't like to think about it.

Remy hadn't known he was still alive until he'd actually opened his eyes and seen his non-cloudlike surroundings for himself. Until then, he thought the distant sound of an explosion and the horrible thud of contact meant that he was done for.

But apparently not.

The water Remy had slipped on as he was racing away caused him to slide in a sort of diagonal fashion and collide with one of the wheels of the cart. He'd blacked out when he heard the tomato explode, sure that he was a disembodied ghost of some sort hearing his physical demise.

Doubts set in, however, as soon as he started coming to and heard the pitter-patter of the rain. Opening his eyes, he'd seen the tomato, registered the absence of feet in the area, and realized what had happened.

They thought the red stuff was…well, what was left of him, and he had somehow managed to escape with his life.

Remy silently thanked the Gods of Dumb Luck, if they existed.

He stood up, surprisingly a little less shaky than before, and shook out his limbs to make sure they hadn't stopped working or something. Oddly enough, his head stopped hurting as soon as he started moving.

Remy's next step would have to be getting home in one piece. It didn't sound that difficult, but the way things had been going lately he wouldn't be surprised if some nearby alley cats were hosting a party right in the middle of the road he had to take home. He only hoped Linguini and Emile were OK…he hoped desperately that Emile hadn't told anyone in the clan what supposedly happened yet.

Taking a deep breath, Remy started the trek home.


	16. Chapter 16

Sorry it took so long to get this chapter up!! (I've been saying that a lot lately.) Life is busy and I wanted to make this chapter something special...it's an important one. Review please!!

Away 16

* * *

Emile leaned against the back wall of La Ratatouille, craning his neck to look at the dark night sky speckled with stars.

He couldn't force himself to go back to the clan just yet. As it was, he couldn't force himself to believe anything that just happened. And he figured that would be a good thing to do before bearing the unsavory responsibility of telling his dad.

Ha. Unsavory. Remy had always hated that word.

Emile shook his head, trying to rid himself of all thoughts concerning his Lil' Bro.

But it was too hard. And, anyway, that was really the entire purpose of him sitting there, blankly staring at the alley in front of him—thinking of possible ways to tell his commanding, domineering and yet somehow maternal father that one of his sons was dead.

The first time the family thought they'd lost Remy at least Emile hadn't had to say anything. After falling down the waterfall-type-thing in the sewage system, Django had done what he had to—made sure the other members of the clan he knew had been there _before_ the waterfall were still accounted for. After that, he'd made the plan—walk in an orderly fashion (or as orderly as possible) towards the other end of the sewer, where there was bound to be some way out. He'd appointed a few other rats to be overall group leaders so there wasn't complete and total chaos. No one noticed how Django sagged behind the group as they journeyed to who-knows-where. At least, no one except Emile.

"Dad…" Emile started, as soon as he discovered him lagging behind. After a moment's pause, he'd summoned his courage and asked the question pretty much everyone else in the clan was burning to know.

"Where's Remy?"

Django sighed and looked Emile straight in the eye.

"I don't know, Emile."

"What do you mean you don't know?"

"I mean…I don't know. There's no way he could have survived that alone—most of the others are alive only because of the boats and other floating things they could hang on to. Remy didn't have that. He didn't have anyone else to drag him out of the water, either."

Emile stopped.

"Dad…are you saying he's dead?"

Django, who had kept walking, turned around. Emile had been pained to see the sadness and loss in his expression. "I can't see it any other way."

After that, Emile didn't talk to anyone for the next few days. He didn't see how he could without randomly blaming someone for his brother's death, when really he knew it was his fault. If he hadn't run straight to the clan when the crazy old lady started firing, if he had _listened _to Remy when he started shouting, then the crazy old lady wouldn't have shot at the ceiling. Then it wouldn't have fallen down. And then they wouldn't have had to run for their lives, leaving Remy behind and therefore sealing his fate.

The joy of randomly finding Remy alive and well about a week later was indescribable. He felt like he could laugh and smile again, and, quite honestly, Remy was his best friend. He didn't know how he managed without having his Lil' Bro by his side.

But it looked like he was going to have to find out.

The sound of someone sitting next to him jarred Emile out of his memories.

"What's wrong, Emile?"

Emile sighed and answered the voice he knew so well.

"Well, for one thing, _you_ had to go and get yourself killed, and for another, _I'm _the one who has to tell Dad."

"Really? Wow, Emile, that's rough. I'm really sorry, bro."

"Yeah. You should be, after that stunt you pulled tonight. What were you _thinking?"_

"That I didn't want to die."

"A lot of good _that _did you."

"Guess so."

Emile sighed heavily. "Guess I should go face the music."

He stood up, definitely not ready to go in. He realized that when he told his father, he would have to believe that Remy was dead, too, and he wasn't ready for that.

Something was still telling him that his Lil' Bro was quite fine.

But he wasn't going to believe it. It would hurt too much if the weird feeling was wrong.

And yet…

He whipped around to see Remy, his Lil' Bro, sitting against the wall with the most annoying, cocky, amused expression Emile had ever seen. Sure, Remy was wet and his fur was smudged, but it was Remy. And he was, without a doubt, alive.

* * *

Before he knew it, Emile had tackled Remy to the ground in one of those affectionate-yet-painful hugs that brothers do.

"Remy, don't DO that!" he shouted. Emile didn't quite know what he was feeling at the moment, it was a mixture of anger, happiness, relief, more anger, more happiness, and more relief.

Remy, on his part, couldn't stop laughing.

"I had you—HAHAHA—going--HAHAHAHA—for a little—HAHA—while there, didn't I?"

"Yeah, and I repeat, DON'T DO THAT."

It was a while before Remy stopped laughing and looked seriously at Emile.

"Emile, I really am sorry for any trouble I might have caused."

Emile frowned. "You don't know the half of it, do you?"

"What? You didn't tell Dad yet."

"No, which is good."

"So what's the problem?"

"You've got to see Linguini!"


	17. Chapter 17

So. Last chapter. It's quite a bittersweet moment.

First, I realize that i haven't really done the disclaimer, so to avoid any unnecessary trouble I'm just gonna do it right now: I DO NOT OWN "RATATOUILLE". (Although I wish I did.) RATATOUILLE IS THE PROPERTY OF DISNEY/PIXAR.

Alright, now that that's out of the way, I apologize to my readers for my extreme laziness and procrastination. I realize it's been, like, a month since I've updated, but I've had a lot going on and I wanted to make this chapter awesome cuz it's the last one. :). Hopefully, you readers will like it, which brings me to my next point: Thanks so much to all of you who have read and reviewed!! It really means a lot to me. :) :). If you could find the time to review this last chapter, it would make me unbelievably happy. :).

Alright, that's all I wanted to say. Enjoy!!

Away 17

* * *

"Cheri, please eat _something,_" Colette urged Linguini, whose head rested in his arms on a counter in the kitchen of _La Ratatouille. _

"Colette, I can't," Linguini said, his voice muffled, tired, and dangerously close to cracking.

They had been having the same conversation for about 15 minutes, which wasn't a terribly long time, but for Colette's worn patience it was just past tolerable.

"Alfredo," she said, her tone demanding attention but at the same time kind and understanding.

Linguini slowly raised his head to lock eyes with Colette's, revealing that they were bloodshot and recently wet, which matched the water stains on his sleeve.

"Alfredo, what exactly happened?"

This was the main reason Colette was annoyed. Linguini had walked into the kitchen, soaking wet, gave her one glance that couldn't mean anything good had happened, and then collapsed onto a stool and indiscreetly cried.

After that, it was impossible to get any response out of him, other than the words "I can't." And that was what mainly annoyed Colette. She hated those words, and had a right to know what happened. Although she had noticed that Little Chef hadn't made the trip back with Linguini, and Little Chef's brother had stayed outside.

"Alfredo, what _happened?_" she tried again as Linguini continued to blankly stare at her.

"Colette…he…jar…stupid lady…cat…gun…police…"

That was all he seemed capable of saying, because after that his head dropped again to the safety of his arms.

"Cheri, I'm not a detective," Colette said softly.

Linguini didn't move. Against her nature, Colette decided to drop it.

"Alfredo, will you move so we can go home?"

No response.

"Alfredo?"

Nothing.

"_Alfredo," _Colette added a little more bite to the word.

Absolutely nothing. She wondered vaguely if he was asleep. It wouldn't surprise her, Linguini fell asleep faster than anyone she knew.

Sighing, she pulled out a stool to sit on and attempt a better vantage point of Linguini's face to confirm that he was, in fact, sleeping peacefully.

Head resting on her arms like Linguini's, but with her face up, she studied his rhythmic breathing and decided that he was asleep. It was no wonder, he had had a long, tiresome day, and he'd just exhausted himself crying.

Colette was about to join him in his slumber for lack of a better thing to do when she noticed a movement out of the corner of her eye.

Turning, ready to use her trusty pepper spray if needed, she found herself meeting the concerned gaze of Mon Chef.

"Oh, thank God," she said to herself as the little rat scurried across the tabletop, stopped in front of Linguini, inspected the sleeping redhead, and then turned to face a very angry Colette.

"Mon Chef, where have you _been?_" Colette demanded, her voice a mixture of anger and relief. Before the little rat could start his explanation via charades, she noticed a tiny scar on his back and gently turned him around. Her voice softened.

"Oh, Mon Chef…what happened?" she asked, her voice now dripping with concern. Without waiting for movements from the rat, she opened the first aid drawer conveniently in front of her and pulled out some antiseptic. And, although the little rat attempted escape, she managed in the way that probably only Colette could to put a little dot of it on his back and rub it in thoroughly.

"Do you think we need a band-aid…?" she asked, inspecting the tiny scar again. Frantic head movements from Mon Chef told her that he did not desire a large, sticky bandage on his back. The injury didn't look like anything too serious, anyway.

"Now, Mon Chef, I ask again: What _happened?_"

From the charades, she gathered that he had been walking downtown, stumbled into a shop, fallen off of something, carried something on top of his head, and that there had been guns. And there had been rain, although that last part was assumed by the little rat's wet fur.

"All right then. I think I'll just have Alfredo explain it to me later…."

Remy could tell he was not getting through, but that didn't matter right now. In his frantic attempts to escape from Colette's stupid antiseptic, (seriously, why'd Linguini have to convince her to buy that?), he had totally forgotten his original motive for coming back in here. Emile was taking care of informing the clan of Remy's safety, and it was Remy's job to do the same for Linguini. (And Colette, but that had been accomplished fairly quickly.)

Turning to the sleeping form of his best friend, Remy shook his head in amusement. It was just like Linguini to fall asleep while balancing one half precariously on a chair and the other half totally slumped on a table. It was a talent, really.

Gently, Remy nudged Linguini's arm. He didn't stir. Scratching his arm didn't work, either. Neither did softly biting it. Finally, Remy abandoned all hope for a normal awakening and climbed to the top of Linguini's head, assumed a comfortable position among the messy strands of red hair, and pulled skillfully on some choice strands.

Some small grunting sounds from Linguini confirmed that he was (finally) coming to. Remy pulled harder, which resulted in Linguini's head jolting up like a jack-in-the-box, almost throwing the tiny rat off his perch.

"Hmm…wha…Colette? What are we doing at the restaurant?" Linguini asked groggily. "My head hurts….."

Reaching up to soothe the inflicted area, his hand rested on something furry and soft that was definitely not his thick, curly hair.

"Colette…."

With a knowing, maternal smile, Colette just nodded.

Slowly, Linguini closed his hand around the fluffy object and brought it down to eye level.

A smiling Little Chef was looking back at him with a look that clearly said, "Seriously, you didn't believe it, did you?"

With a smile, Linguini drew the hand holding the tiny rat into as close a hug as he could get. "I knew it," he whispered.


End file.
